


Masterpiece

by GhostingAlong



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Art, Artist!Dream, Coffee Shop, Fluff, Gay, George is awkward, It's perfect, M/M, Oneshot, Painter!Dream, Slow beginning, bi coded dream, bisexual george, dreams flirtatious, dreams got style, george centric, george is a nervous wreck wtf, its all fluff :), ive written so much angst in conviction i really needed to get a fluff centric fic out there, like they just meet and dream's in love, please oh my god they're so gay, so is George, they're both in love at first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostingAlong/pseuds/GhostingAlong
Summary: George and coffee are a pretty good duo.And Dream likes to paint pretty things.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 282





	Masterpiece

For the most part of the 'Daily Life of George' he would sit at the local coffee shop, sip an americano-brewed coffee, and code on his laptop. His job was pretty laid back, he constructed simplistic plugins for content creators who were willing to try them out for videos. He got good pay, too. 

He wasn't technically that keen on the social aspect of a painfully-long dragged out week; perhaps it was just the calming nature of his surroundings in which he chose to remain. The most he considered to be part of his social life was perhaps the friendly barista who would greet him with a light hearted grin as he stepped foot into the small café. Although, they barely conversated, as it wasn't really George's strong suit to keep up small talk unless it were to do with coding. 

Today was alike no other, for George still continued to have little plans in his daily life; he liked minimalistic things, coffee was a fairly decent example of such. It kept him through the day, and he felt as though he were deceased without a cup of coffee to fuel his blood. 

In the busy streets of Brighton, England, it was a nice contrast to have encountered the small corner shop, hidden from sight. It was common to meet students similar to him in the café, ones whose life was laid back and relaxed. Ones whose life was elated when fuelled by caffeine, then crashing dramatically into the sodden dirt when not. George knew the feeling obviously, he was a student at one point.

Of course, there was the occasional teenager who thought they were mad when walking into the shop, but the tranquil aura was soon to bore their spirits to the point they'd awkwardly slip out the door without a word spoken.

Sunshine was never George's favourite, rather the pattering of rain slipping down a fogged-up window gave him relaxed feelings bubbling under his skin. Unfortunately, it was sunny out today, so George would have to make the most of it if he were to keep up his upbeat mood forever. The inside of the shop was too lukewarm for his liking, so his decision to sit at the little circular table settled outside the shop was definitely a well-thought out decision on his part, in his opinion.

The streets were empty, but George listened in on the bustling cars, beeping horns, and hurried footsteps just around the corner; it felt desolate, but in truly the best way possible.

A man stepped around the corner, seeming to stop in the middle of the pavement and glance around at the hidden-off street. George watched as he began to take photos of some nearby graffiti and then begin to walk further down.

Upon closer inspection, he had blonde hair swiped out of his eyes, which were a vibrant green - they stood out, even from afar - and he was (of course) wearing a mask to prevent cross-contamination. They had just reached the end of a 6 month lockdown, after all. The mask was white, with a crudely drawn smiley face plastered onto it. George found it cute, it gave the stranger a bit of personality.

He looked back down at his laptop, choosing to continue with his work before he was caught staring. George's fingers glided over the keyboard with a few gentle taps here and there, and a couple of soft breaths escaped him as each swing of warm coffee was drunk.

Steps grew nearer, and George instinctively pulled out his baby blue mask and strung it over his mouth and nose to keep whoever it was safe. His eyes danced their way up, noticing it was the same man from before; only nearer. George could admire him a little more now. His face had some freckles splattered across like brown paint from a dry paintbrush, and his eyebrows were well kept. He didn't look George's way though, almost as if he were pretending to mind his own business.

George didn't necessarily care for who the man was, he just found the look of him intriguing; he had style, and he was for sure good-looking.

Enough admiring; more coding. George scolded himself harshly as he tried to get his head back in the world of numbers and commands. A fairly difficult task per se, especially when a handsome man was walking down the street, directly towards you.

George didn't falter, however, he upheld his composure though his internalised anxiety of the man dawned upon him like the moon. He felt near pressured to simply nod at him - smiling wouldn't do the trick, he was wearing a mask! Maybe it would be best to ignore his presence as he strolled by, it would save them both the trouble of having to be friendly when they were both total strangers.

Unfortunately, the stranger seemingly had no plans to walk on by any time soon, and it left George to deal with his panic erupting in his chest. He wasn't sure as to why he felt so heart-stricken, he had never really felt that way before - moreso, especially not towards a man. George felt that way when he saw pretty women, only this was in person, and not some TV show or magazine showing the dramatically edited faces of an already beautiful girl.

His fingers tapped along the keyboard, pressing random keys and pretending to focus on the task that lay in front of him rather than the stranger.

Soon, however, he was interrupted. 

"Excuse me," A voice - clearly foreign, American - piped up. "I'm an exchange student, I'm attending the art college in Scotland temporarily and took a trip up to Brighton for a week to paint some things I found quite pretty. I'm not from here, nor Scotland - as you can probably tell - but I have a favor to ask."

George looked up, noticing this was the same guy he couldn't help but stare at, and his head tilted to the side in utmost curiosities. The man seemed interesting, and although talking wasn't George's strong suit, he'd give it a shot.

"What do you need?" He asked, pulling his mask down to take a sip of his coffee; acting as if his face wasn't flushed with both embarassment and fluster.

"It's for my portfolio, my task is to create a portfolio of all the things I find beautiful - painted. Mind if I paint a portrait of you?" He asked, sheepishly.

George felt his heart leap, his coffee almost spluttering out of his mouth as he tried to grasp a hold of what the other had said. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and gave an embarassed grin.

"Yeah- yeah, sure. Uhm, what's your name?"

"Dream. It's a weird name, sure, but what can you expect from a Floridian? And great, you don't necessarily need to stay still, I've already got a good picture of your face in my mind. You stand out, for sure, you're definitely one of the prettiest sights to see in all of Brighton."

George nearly crumbled under his words, his hands fidgeting with happiness as he felt unsure whether to thank Dream or get up and run off. The latter was a bit too dramatic, so he just pulled his sleeves over his small hands and covered half of his mouth to mask his smile. 

"I- I'm... I'm flattered. Uhm- thanks!" George breathed out, blinking rapidly as his legs swung slightly on the chair. He notices Dream's face, how his eyes crinkled up. George could tell he was grinning.

"Yeah, cool!" Dream grinned as he pulled his backpack off of his back, unzipping it to unveil an A3 canvas and some paint supplies. He slumped down onto the chair opposite George with a small screech, and his hair floated as the wind blew along. George took in the sight, for it was definitely a sight to behold.

George took occasional drinks of his coffee, as Dream focused on an outline sketch of George. The coffee was almost finished, but George's anxieties caused him to continue to take small sips, even if he ended up drinking the air. Dream found it amusing, how easily flustered the older man was.

"So, what's your name?" Dream asked, his eyes focused on his canvas. George looked up from his laptop.

"George."

"George, huh? Definitely British." Dream teased, lightheartedly, as he glanced up to make eye contact before quickly breaking it. "What do you do? I noticed you're coding something - I do basic code too occasionally - but I'm not sure what you were trying to do."

"I make plugins for content creators, mainly Minecraft plugins. I get paid pretty decently for it, since they give me a third of the revenue." George explained, admiring Dream as his hand moved in a circular motion as pencil marks scraped along.

"Minecraft, huh? I play that quite a bit with a friend of mine, Sapnap, we usually play bedwars though. I'm not really a fan of slow paced stuff, such as survival - unless it's speedrunning. I'm pretty good at speedrunning Minecraft."

"Oh, couldn't be me." George mustered out a chuckle, his demeanor relaxing as their conversation proceeded, "I like the slow pace. Its fun seeing how much you can achieve in as much time as you wish - for me, all I do is get supplies, build a cottage, build a farm, waste time ingame, and then try to beat it. I guess servers are pretty fun, but I feel second-hand embarassment for myself when I fail miserably at hunger games."

Dream broke out into a wheeze, "Wow, truly no shame George!" his laugh continued, and George felt mesmerised by the sheer uniqueness of it, "You know, I could get you on a friend of mine's server. Sapnap and I play on it almost daily, we could get you to join in and maybe we could teach you. Or, we could kick your ass, but teaching is definitely the nicer option."

Their conversation continued, and it felt almost like an hour had flown by. George had watched Dream switch from pencils to paints, hiding the canvas every time George tried to take a sly peek at what was there. He would hiss a 'Don't look!' every time, and then relax. George noticed how flirtatious Dream would be, and his heart would skip a beat every time. Dream's hands would swing, tap, glide and flap onto the canvas, adding on delicate details to enhance the face sitting ahead of him to encapsulate all of his genuine beauty.

Soon, after two hours had passed, Dream left the paintbrush in his little cup of paint water (dyed brown from painting George's hair) and he leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

"All done." Dream nodded with confidence brimming off of his stature. He grabbed ahold of the sides of the canvas, flipping it around to face George, who quickly gasped in amazement.

It was a portrait of George, alright. It was him, his eyes glanced down at his laptop and a free hand gripping onto his coffee cup. The cup hid his lips, as it sat just under his nose. George noticed all the smaller details, such as the tiny dots for faded freckles and the small wrinkled around his eyes, signifying his good mood. It felt like he was looking into a mirror, and as much as he wanted to touch the painting, he knew it was still a little damp. 

Dream looked prideful, "Pretty good, right? I think I did a good job."

"You definitely did." George agreed, his gaze caught up with the perfection of the painting. "Thank you, I love this so much."

"It's not for you, it's for my portfolio. However," Dream slid over a small page with a smirk, "This is for you."

George set the painting down on the table, closing his laptop and shifting it to make more room. He grasped ahold of the small page, and read. 

It was Dream's number. He flushed again. "For me?"

"Mhm!" Dream confirmed as he took hold of the canvas in an almost protective manner, "Who wouldn't take the chance to give a pretty man their number? I want to get to know you," He explained, as he put his art supplies away. "Now, I have some extra spare change on me, how about another coffee?"

"That'd sound great, especially with you." 


End file.
